“Do you think he’s the one?”
“I don’t know.” Since the dawn of time, they’d hunted for the right Malachai. The one who could turn against the dark forces that had sired it and fight with them against the Source so that she could free her brothers.
But to date, they had lost every Malachai they’d tried to save. The darkness within each one was more than they could resist. And who could blame them?
Al of their bloodline was born to cause pain. Born to wield the darkest powers imaginable. Just as Nekoda had been born to the light.
Nick was stil a kid who had no idea who and what he was.
But she knew exactly the kind of violence he’d been bred for.
And he terrified her.
“Menyara swears we can save him.”
Sraosha scoffed. “She’s too close to this one. She’s blind to what he real y is.”
Perhaps that was true, but Nekoda had no such attachment to him. “Have no fear. I’m not blind to him. His glamour doesn’t charm me.”
“Make sure you don’t fal victim to it. Remember, that’s only one of many powers he’l possess. Powers that wil work on al mortals and immortals alike. As you’ve seen, evil is already beginning to tempt him and that wil only worsen as he matures.”
Nekoda swal owed as she saw in her mind the events that led up to his being shot. “He pul ed back before hurting them.”
“This time. But that single act of drifting toward violence against another has unleashed his Cimmerian Magus. The dark powers are uniting now to train him. Can’t you feel it?” Yes. It permeated everything here and it sent a feral chil down her spine. There were ten lessons that had to be taught to every Malachai. Every one of them would make him stronger.
More corrupt.
It would shape him into a tool of evil that would come for her and her people and wreak absolute misery on everyone who came into contact with him.
The first lesson was necromancy. But not just communication with the dead. Reanimation and control.
No matter how hard Nekoda tried, she couldn’t see Nick becoming like the others. Surely he wouldn’t embrace such a cold power.
You made the mistake of that thought before.
She winced as she remembered his father and how wrong she’d been then. Had she struck when she’d been told to, she would have saved countless lives.
It’s the light inside of you that wants to believe in the goodness of other people. Even the Malachais. She’d shown the elder Malachai mercy and he’d spat in her face and embraced his own brand of evil.
No matter what, she wouldn’t be so stupid again.
“Have no fear, Sraosha. I’ve learned from my mistake. This time, I won’t fail. If we can’t turn him, I will kil him.”
“You better remember that. Because this one is even stronger than his father and now he’s being embraced and trained by the Dark-Hunters. If we don’t turn him, he wil be the one who final y destroys us al .”
And she would be the one to blame for the death of humanity.
CHAPTER 4
Welcome home, Nicky!”
Nick opened his eyes to find himself in their crappy living room with Aunt Menyara standing in front of him, holding an actual store-bought chocolate cake with the same happy words written on it that she’d just uttered. He was stunned by the smal crowd around her who shouted her words at him.
Wow …
Petite like his mother, Menyara had smooth chocolate-brown skin that glowed in the flickering candlelight. Her sisterlocks were held back from her beautiful face by a wide yel ow scarf she’d tied around her head that trailed down her back, just past her hair. The yel ow was mirrored in her peasant blouse that was tucked into a bright orange skirt that fel al the way to her ankles.
Skinny silver bangles lined both of her arms and they jingled as she angled the cake for him to see her beautiful handwriting. “It’s your favorite, cher. We’re so glad you’re home.”
Nick blushed as his gaze went from her to the rest of the dancers who worked with his mom who’d come over for his party. Even John and Greg, two of the bouncers from the club, were here.
They were clapping and smiling at him, making him extremely uncomfortable with the attention as they congratulated him on being a hero.
Funny, he felt more like a fraud.
Menyara put the cake down on the counter for him. “C’mon, cher, and blow out the candles before they ruin your beautiful cake.”
He always loved the lilt of Menyara’s Creole accent whenever she spoke. A voodoo priestess and midwife, Aunt Mennie, as he cal ed her, was also his godmother and his mother’s best friend.
She’d been the one who’d brought him into this world and who’d taken his mom in after her parents had tossed her out.
When he’d been too young to go to the club with his mom, Mennie had been the one who kept him. For that alone, he’d do anything in the world for her.